On break from Source Mag gig which is going swimmingly, hip-hoppingly, bustariffically, boombastically. Crudsville, I realized I forgot to have my digital likeness captured and tossed onto a faux Source cover this AM.
Source's website is down, so no special links to there. Laurent, man who hired me, says they don't know which direction to take their site. (?)
What was I shooting, you might wonder? A model search for tonight's fashion extravaganza, 13 girls and 40 guys chosen to traipse across the stage in borrowed streetwear. They were looking for size 6 girls who could float on air - which immediately (+ I am, like, working) disqualified me, a non-6-sized camera-slinging sloucher.
En route back to work hovel stopped at the middling city's sole bubble tea joint to write it up for AOL and Your Perfect Nancy let out a wonderfully unplanned EW when her first tapioca marble entered the double-wide straw and shot down her unsuspecting and unawaiting throat. This transpired much to the delight of more skilled sippers, those in the know. Second thought: can't wait to bring niece and nephew here for fieldtrip.